"Now that we're all gathered, let me take a look at your injuries," Ren said, his voice taking on that tone they were starting to recognize.
Old Hans and Irene both showed signs of damage sustained from inside the mansion. There were some light wounds scattered across their arms and legs, cuts from broken glass and scrapes from rough stone, but nothing that appeared immediately life threatening.
Ren deployed four tentacles from his back, each one moving with precision. The appendages produced small syringes filled with a green liquid that glowed faintly in the red light of the sky.
"This might sting a little," he said as he plunged small doses of awakening anesthesia into the areas near their wounds.
Hans and Irene both tensed as the needles went in, but within seconds the pain from their injuries began to fade. Ren's tentacles then produced surgical thread and began suturing their wounds shut with mechanical efficiency.
The patients... No, the victims' faces went pale with horror as they watched the eldritch appendages work on their bodies. The sight of those writhing tentacles threading through their flesh with inhuman precision was deeply disturbing on a primal level. But they decided to say nothing, not wanting to offend the person healing them.
Not long after their wound heal completely not leaving a scar
Fear Points: 200 points gained
Ren clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"Stingy piece of crap," he cursed softly at the system, clearly disappointed with the small amount.
Hans and Irene, who caught the cursing but not the context, got scared and quickly backed away from him once the healing was complete.
"Thank you," Hans said hurriedly, his voice shaking slightly.
"Yes, thank you," Irene added quietly, though she kept her distance.
Ren sighed and retracted his tentacles. Even when helping people, he seemed to inspire more fear than gratitude.
"Okay, now that we're all on the same page, let me tell you this first," Ren said, turning to address the group.
"Henry, you may need to carry this mission a lot more than you thought."
Henry tilted his head in confusion. "Huh? What do you mean, Nox?"
"Let me tell you this first. When we were in the mansion, do you remember that I didn't brute force my way out like you did?"
"I thought you were having fun, Nox," Henry replied with genuine puzzlement.
"Aren't you like the embodiment of Eldritch horror? You must have been having fun in that haunted house, right?"
Ren's face twitched behind the plague doctor mask. This guy sure had a talent for hitting where it hurt. Embodiment of Eldritch horror? No, I'm a doctor, you little shit, Ren thought irritably.
"No, shit man," Ren spat on the glass ground, his frustration evident.
"Of course that's not it, you idiot."
"Huh? Don't you like horror stuff, Nox?" Henry asked, still looking confused.
Ren thought for a second, then decided to try a different approach.
"Let me give you an example. You're a ranger, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"If I compare it to your situation, do you like hunting?"
Henry pressed his hand against his chin, thinking about the question.
"Just a little, I guess?"
"And let me ask you this," Ren continued,
"What if other rangers suddenly appeared and started hunting you like an animal? Would you like that?"
"Of course I wouldn't!" Henry exclaimed, finally understanding starting to dawn in his eyes.
Ren snapped his fingers.
"That's it, Henry. Although I am a... let's say, falsely accused embodiment of horror, being in another horror domain makes me feel like I'm being hunted by those of the same profession."
Henry's eyes lit up with comprehension. "Oh, so that's it! You're really good at explaining things, Nox."
"Of course I am. I'm a genius doctor, after all," Ren said smugly, clearly pleased with himself.
Hans looking confused. "Falsely accused embodiment of horror? Who falsely accused you? You are literally a walking horror movie."
"Yeah," Irene added quietly, "your tentacles and mask kind of give it away."
"That's not the point!" Ren protested, though his argument was somewhat undermined by the fact that his mask made his voice sound particularly ominous.
Henry laughed. "You guys are making this way more complicated than it needs to be."
"Now, let's get back to the topic," Ren said, trying to regain control of the conversation. "When I was in that mansion, the domain of the Obsidian God, it seemed like its power was suppressing me, and I got somewhat weaker."
"What? How much weaker?" Henry asked, his expression becoming serious again.
"I got dropped to about A rank level."
"Ah, shit. So it's gonna be mainly me, huh?" Henry said, running his hand through his hair.
"Of course I'm gonna support you from the back," Ren assured him.
"Oh," Ren added as an afterthought,
"and if that thing doesn't have the power to use a domain, I guess I can still fight somewhat normally."
"Yeah, but better be careful, Nox," Henry said, genuine worry creeping into his voice.
"Sure Su-"
Ren's words got cut short. The last thing that he saw was a foot—a pure black foot that reflected light like polished obsidian, massive beyond comprehension, launching at his face with the weight of divine judgment.
It was the Obsidian God Avatar's foot.
BOOOMM!
The impact sent Ren flying several kilometers away, his body tumbling across the glass plain like a broken doll.
"Shit! Prepare to fight!" Henry shouted, his casual demeanor instantly replaced by the focused intensity of a Master-rank hunter.
Hans immediately summoned his chimeras, the magical beasts materializing around him with snarls and roars. His hands moved quickly through his alchemical supplies, pulling out vials and powders that began to glow with various colors.
Irene drew her sword in one smooth motion, the blade singing as it cleared the sheath. Her stance shifted into a combat position, muscles tense and ready for action.
Henry's golden bow appeared in his hands as if summoned from thin air. He nocked an arrow that blazed with golden light, the energy so intense it made the air around it shimmer like a mirage.
The Avatar of the Obsidian God stood before them in all its terrible glory, emerald eyes blazing with divine fury. Its obsidian flesh pulsed with veins of gold, and its draconic head turned to regard them with the kind of attention a cat gives to mice.
Henry drew back his bowstring, the arrow's light growing brighter and more intense. Power gathered around him like a visible aura, the very air crackling with the force of his Master-rank abilities.
"Meteor Fall," he whispered, and released the string.
The arrow streaked through the air like a falling star, leaving a trail of golden fire in its wake as it raced toward the Avatar's chest. The very fabric of reality seemed to bend around the projectile, space warping under the pressure of Henry's unleashed power.
The real battle was about to begin.